


Quad-Wizard Tournament?

by ScribeOnTheSide



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Gen, The Magicians AU, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6596587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribeOnTheSide/pseuds/ScribeOnTheSide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Fogg and some of his best students visit Hogwarts to witness the opening of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and one in particular ends up participating.<br/>Something I'm toying with based on a Tumblr suggestion.<br/>Timeline is probably early fall, after the first Beast attack but before the "Mike Situation".  HP timeline is, of course, Book 4, the Goblet of Fire.<br/>Teen for language and very light flirting.<br/>I own none of the characters.<br/>CHAPTER 10 is UP and the story is complete.  Thanks everyone for reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

The Great Hall echoed with the sounds of talking and feasting. While the students from the three schools already present segregated themselves within the hall, the chatter regarding the Tri-Wizard tournament champion selection reached a fevered pitch. One topic that everyone was discussing concerned the missing school. For the first time, the European magical community invited a school from the New World to observe the opening of the tournament, although the opposition to the invite was significant. Several families didn’t consider what the Americans taught to be real magic and were afraid of their children being contaminated by the strange, “native” magic practiced by the Americans.

“I’ve heard that they don’t use wands or anything!” Ron sputtered with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. He was in the process of cleaning off his plate for the second time, while continuing to steal glances at the girls from the Beauxbaton’s Academy. 

“Honestly Ron, don’t talk with your mouth full” said Hermione “And, yes, from what I’ve read, it’s true. They practice a more elemental magic which relies on channeling their own energy along with a series of patterns made with their hands to shape and release that energy.”

Harry passed Ron some more baked ham and rolls. “That sounds bloody brilliant! Tons more useful than having to keep track of a piece of wood.”

Before Hermione could respond, a commotion at the back of the hall caught everyone’s attention. 

A loud crack vibrated through the air, shaking the tables and knocking over several drinks. The hall was filled with the smell of lilacs and burned oak leaves, rolling from a cloud of smoke just inside the main doors. Those closest to the noise and smoke moved back, abandoning their seats. The adults and several of the upper classmen pulled their wands, readying defensive and offensive spells. 

As the smoke cleared, a small group came into view. First up was a tall Indian man in a mostly unbuttoned brown patterned shirt and a colorful scarf draped around his neck. Penny was visibly sweating and panting as if he was going to be sick. His hands, which had been raised in front of him, fingers in what looked like a diamond pattern, dropped heavily to his side.  
“That was DAMN harder than you said it’d be, old man!” He growled, looking at the man next to him. 

“I said you could do it, not that it was easy, even with borrowing some of my energy” said the older looking African American man wearing dark glasses with his bandaged hands on Penny’s shoulder. Henry Fogg was wearing a dark blue suit with a maroon tie. He patted Penny on the back and straightened up to his full height, preparing for the formal introductions. 

Behind them, on the left, stood a matched set. Towering over his companion, Eliot stood with one arm across his front, hand tucked under the other arm which was tight against his side, That arm was bent, a hand casually holding a cigarette up to his lips, taking a long slow drag from it. His dark wavy hair was artfully arranged to drop just above his eyes. He looked like he’d rather be absolutely anywhere other than Hogwarts. Wearing a purple shirt with a waistcoat two shades darker, matching bowtie and black slim fit pants, the man’s outfit was a perfect compliment to the woman’s dress next to him. Margo only came up to the Eliot’s shoulder, even in sky-high black heeled boots. Her dark brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, emphasized her large dark eyes and the open shoulder cut of her heliotrope colored mini-dress. She gazed indifferently at the gawking mass of students, arms crossed, hip popped to one side.

“Look, Bambi, we’re in Oliver Twist but with food and older urchins.” Eliot said, brushing ash off his sleeve. 

Next to them, on the right of the initial pair, were two final figures, coughing and choking on the dissipating smoke. Alice had long white-blonde hair and was wearing a form-fitting and short, if very conservative looking, black dress with a wide, white collar. She was cleaning the dust off her glasses with the edge of her white cardigan. The man next to her fumbled with his satchel, clinging to it, even though the strap was slung across his body. Quentin wore a navy sweater with a white button-up underneath and nervously pushed his too-long brown hair back off his face over and over again. 

The dean took a step forward, raising his bandaged hands towards the uneasy crowd on the dias at the end of the hall.  
“Professor Dumbledore! My apologies for being late. The trip was a touch more difficult than we anticipated. I am Dean Henry Fogg of Brakebills College for Magical Pedagogy in America. Thank you for inviting us to observe the opening of this legendary contest.”

Dumbledore rose from his seat and waved the man forward.  
“Dean Fogg! Welcome to Hogwarts! What a remarkable entrance. We must discuss the details. But first, join us for dinner. We have a seat reserved up here for you. Your students may feel free to sit wherever they will feel most comfortable.” 

Fogg turned to his students.  
“Try to stay out of trouble please. This is the first time we’ve been invited to this particular party and we don’t want to make it the last. And Penny, make sure you get enough to eat. You used most of your reserves on that jump in.”

Another table appeared at the end of the Gryffindor row with places for 5 set. Penny plopped down onto the closest seat and began to dig into the food that appeared on the table before him. The rest settled in near him. 

Cedric Diggory, a Hufflepuff prefect, approached Eliot and asked him to put out his cigarette as it was against school rules to smoke in the castle. Eliot took one last drag, blowing the smoke slowly to the side while looking Cedric up and down.  
“Well, I wouldn’t want to break any rules while I’m here, would I?” He said, leaning forward with a devilish smirk. “Now where would one go for a drink in this quaint little backwater?”  
That earned him a stern look from Alice and a giggle from Margo while Cedric gave him an uncertain smile and retreated to the Hufflepuff table, looking confused. 

The buzzing, which had died down during the disturbance, resurfaced with more volume. This was the New World school. And they somehow managed to apparate directly into Hogwarts which should have been impossible, according to Hermione. They brought so few people. Exactly how big was their school? Were they planning on competing?  
“No” said Neville while finishing his witchberry pie “Dumbledore said they were only here till just after the Selection of Champions. Something about having them see if this was something they wanted to participate in or not. And for us to get a look at some of their magic to see if it’s anything we might need. They also might be returning to watch the first trial.” 

Everyone buzzed about what that might mean while watching the 5 students eat. The girls swooned over Penny. The boys, over Margo. Students of all genders, over Eliot. Alice and Quentin stayed at the end of the table. Quentin looked happy to just take in everything while Alice was quietly eating, looking down at her plate, ignoring those staring at her.


	2. Meet-n-Greet

After the meal and presentation of the Goblet of Fire, the schools had some time to mingle and visit. 

Hermione found that Alice was a font of information regarding the differences in their magic systems and the two were tucked into a corner dissecting the finer points of natural vs. learned magic while tuning out everything else around them. Their animated discussion was punctuated with various transfigurations and magical creations as they each tried to prove their point. Alice’s glass horse trotted around Hermione’s playing card village while the two women referenced a book Hermione had fetched out of her room. Several women from Ravenclaw surrounded them, some even taking notes. 

After several rounds of comparing wand to gesture magic, Hermione handed over her wand and showed Alice a Wingardium Leviosa spell. Alice admitted the magic felt easier to access with a wand in her hand. However, after Alice taught Hermione Ugarte’s Prismatic Spray (leaving rainbow trails surrounding the group), Hermione had to admit that finger casting had a practical usefulness that could make wand magic seem a little clunky. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Quentin was a short ways off from Alice with Harry, Ron, Fred and George. The Weasley twins were showing him some of their prank items that they sold and explaining how they worked. Quentin particularly liked the concept of Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, the fireworks that multiplied every time they were hit with a Vanishing Charm, although for obvious reasons, Fred and George couldn’t demonstrate them right then and there. But the kickline of Rubby O’Chickens (bewitched rubber chickens) doing an Irish step-dance on the table more than made up for it.  
“Oy! You’re muggle-born.” asked Fred while he picked up the end chicken that had tumbled off the table’s edge. “Do you know any…”  
“...,muggle magic tricks? Dad is wild for them so we thought we’d give him a few for his birthday.” finished George, knocking the entire line of dancing chickens on their backs and putting them back in their box. 

Quentin , distracted by the still twitching chickens, reached into his satchel and pulled out his deck of playing cards. He hadn’t practiced with them in awhile but kept them as sort of good luck charms.  
“Ummm… sure… they aren’t as fantastic as your toys though.”

“Go on then” encouraged Harry “Show us some.”

Quentin began to go through his repertoire of tricks, up to and including the good old “Is this your card?”. Most of the tricks were received politely but some of the more technically challenging ones proved to be popular.  
“Show me again how you knew where that Jack was?” demanded Ron, who guessed incorrectly for a seventh straight time after being shown again and again.

Quentin handed over his cards to the Weasley boys and worked to show them the basics of dealing from the center of the deck, happily in his element. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Penny looked distinctly uncomfortable as teachers and students flocked around him, all wanting to know how he managed to slip past the wards that protected Hogwarts.  
“I told you, I don’t know how I do it. I just can. Now leave me the hell alone!”  
While most of the upperclassmen had walls surrounding their thoughts, the younger members of the student body had no such defenses. Their minds poured out excitement and questions into his. Penny slipped off to the edge of the crowd, looking for an isolated place to regain the energy to put the walls back up around his own mind when Professor Trelawney cornered him.  
“Looking for a safe haven to connect to the other worlds and dampen the ceaseless voices of this one?” She indicated a stairwell off to his left and started up the stairs.

Penny looked at the crowd of admirers heading his way and quickly followed. At the top of the staircase and through a solid oak door, was a dimly lit room littered in Persian carpets, low tables, and large flat brocade pillows. Trelawney was already on the other side, lighting candles on the tables as she passed by them. Penny followed warily. He couldn’t read anything from her mind, which left him in a soothing yet uncomfortable silence. The professor folded herself down next to one of the tables and waved at the pillow across from her. Penny paused a few feet from the table.  
“Yo, no offense but I’m really not in the mood for any sempai mentoring shit right now. I just need a….” Trelawney pulled out two glasses and a bottle of brown liquid from a compartment under the table. Penny grinned and dropped onto the opposite pillow.  
“...drink. You know, I think my mood just changed.”  
She poured out two drinks and pushed one his way. Looking at him through her too thick glasses, the professor raised her glass.  
“Egészségére! To your health!”  
Penny repeated the gesture.  
“Live long and prosper”  
They both downed the bourbon. Professor Trelawney refilled the glasses.  
“This is my quiet space once the students are gone. I have it warded to help keep the voices out. Originally it was to help the students focus better on opening up their minds to the unknown by dropping their defenses. But anymore, it’s safer for everyone to keep their minds locked up and the wards now just help me have a moment without their adolescent nonsense hounding me.”  
She paused to drain her second glass. “You looked like you could use a break from people’s thoughts. The trip probably drained most of your resistance. It normally does for travellers.”

Penny refilled her glass for her.  
“How do you know that? Are you a traveller?”

“Oh no. I’m just a simple psychic, a seer of small truths. But I’ve known wizards like you. They all were partial to their drinks, the harder the better. Self-medicating, you know. And the stories they would tell. My favorite arrived when I was just a school girl here myself. He was a traveller in both space AND time. Used a blue police box as the focus of his magic. He told me stories about the world’s beginning and ending.” She refilled her glass again, looking reflectively at the candle flickering between them. 

“I offer you this sanctuary in return for a story or two before you leave. Places you’ve gone, things you’ve seen… I haven’t been outside these walls in over a decade. I’ve never seen anything but England. Give me a story from across the ocean. Something to add to the map of my mind.”

Penny tossed back his drink and looked at the strange woman sitting across from him. What the hell, a few stories for some good booze and a peaceful room? Sounded like a good trade to him.  
“Let me tell you about the time I tried to travel to Vegas and wound up in Area 51…”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Eliot and Margo were wandering the hall arm in arm, looking at the local talent.  
“What about that one? He’s filling out that robe awfully well.”  
“Definitely jailbait. Look for the ones that have more individual touches to their uniform. Those are the upperclassmen. Now where did that adorable head boy go?”  
Margo tossed an encouraging smile to a blonde teenager wearing a green and black striped tie with his regulation robes. Draco straightened up and tried to give her a smouldering smirk, failing utterly.  
“Isn’t that one a little young too, Margo? What’s the attraction there?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He is the most arrogant little shit in here which means he is the most insecure. And we both know the insecure are the most desperate to prove they are cool.”

Eliot broke into a wide smile and squeezed her arm.  
“You, my malicious devil, are looking for the bad seeds. Or the corruptible. Either way, I’m seriously impressed! It’s a solid strategy.”

Margo turned towards the approaching Draco Malfoy.  
“Hopefully we should be able to score something to make this trip more bearable from this one. Now shut up and let me do the talking.” 

Draco approached the couple, swallowing down the nerves that threatened to spoil his attempt to earn a few power points within Slytherin. If he could convince these two to come with him to the Slytherin Great room for the after party, his stock was bound to go even higher within the house, especially the girl. She looked exactly like the type of girl his mother had warned him about and he really liked the dangerous feel about her. 

“I’m Draco Malfoy, official representative of Slytherin. I was wondering how you were doing this evening and whether there is anything I can get you. Anything at all...”

Margo graced him with a wide smile.  
“I’m Margo and this is Eliot. We represent the Canicula house of Brakebills. I’m the president while Eliot is my vice-president…”  
Eliot grinned and drawled “Heavy on the vice part, isn’t that right Madam President?”  
Margo turned and glared at him before returning to Draco with a flip of her perfect hair.  
“We’re looking for other houses to form a coalition with for the exchange of ideas as well as any, shall we say, off-the-books items and spells. Most of the houses here seem a little immature for our taste. What does Slytherin have to offer us?”

Draco’s face lit up with a slippery expression.  
“We have the finest instructors in Hogwarts, including Professor Snape, the head potions master. He’s bound to have things you overseas wizards don’t. We also may have…. Items that we’ve come across in various ways… all legal I swear...that we might be willing to part with. Why don’t you come to our Great Room in the school dungeon and see for yourself? I should be able to secure you some better ‘refreshments’ than the trash are drinking and we can talk business.”

Margo put on a look like she was contemplating his offer.  
“I don’t know. Having a party in a dungeon has a real rapey vibe to it. But as long as Eliot can come, I guess it will be alright.”

Draco beamed and started heading for a down staircase at the back of the hall. Eliot offered Margo his arm and followed.  
“By the way” he whispered “What is the Canicula house and why can’t I be the president?”

Margo gave him a wicked smirk.  
“Canicula is one of many Latin words for bitch. I wrote a paper once on misogyny in the language of magic that referenced it. I liked the word because it sounded like a dog vampire. So it’s really the Bitch house of Brakebills and while you are the biggest bitch, I thought it really needed a woman president.”

Eliot gave her a brilliantly white smile, patting her arm. “Love you too, you brilliant bitch!”


	3. After the Party

As the Tri-Wizard reception was ending, Dean Fogg checked in with Professor Dumbledore on accommodations for his students. 

“Ah, yes, they will need places to sleep. We, of course, have a small set of rooms reserved for you in the north tower that can accommodate your entire party. However, it seems that many of your students have fallen in with some of my houses. Perhaps they would like to stay with them as your time here is so limited.”

Dean Fogg concurred that staying with the Hogwart’s students would be a good opportunity for the two schools to mingle and get to know each other. 

Dumbledore smiled, nodding slowly, and gestured some of house heads to him.  
“Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape… I believe you each have two of Dean Fogg’s students interacting with your houses. Would you please be so kind as to extend an invitation for them to stay with you and watch over them?”

Turning to Dean Fogg, he added “Your final student is in seclusion right now and may choose to stay there. If he does, I will have Professor Trelawney take responsibility for him. Otherwise, I will send him to your rooms when he emerges.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the Gryffindor common room, Alice and Quentin were the uncomfortable center of attention.   
Professor McGonagall had given permission for Hermione, Harry, and Ron to host the American guests for the evening. 

“Why didn’t you start training until you were so old?”  
”Do magicians not manifest as fast as wizards?”  
“Can you use a wand and just choose not to?”

Alice fielded as many of the questions as she could. Quentin just answered “I don’t know” to most. He was still asking some of those questions himself. 

After an hour, the prefects shooed everyone off to their rooms. Alice went upstairs with Hermione while Harry and Ron showed Quentin to the extra bed made up in their room. 

Both boys were fascinated by the thought of America and wanted Quentin to describe New York in detail. Was it just like they saw in the movies? Was he afraid to walk on the streets? Had he ever seen a real Italian mobster?

Quentin, in return, had so many questions about life in England. Had they ever seen the queen? Does that giant wheel that he’d seen in several Doctor Who episodes really exist in London? 

The three stayed up most of the night talking, with Quentin trying to show them a few of the more basic castings, like a fire pulse and Ron lending Quentin his wand to try to Wingardium Leviosa. Both were less than successful. Ron and Harry’s hand cramped until they could hardly open them and Quentin felt ridiculous waving a wand around. 

Alice and Hermione spent most of the night comparing the areas of magic that seemed to correlate between the two systems. That, and discussing why the male magicians and wizards consistently underestimated their witch counterparts.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Penny finished off the bottle while Professor Trelawney slept, comfortable on a pile of large sitting pillows. The room was silent other than the soft snoring from the professor. Penny liked it. The insane lady wasn’t kidding. The room was psychically silent. He couldn’t hear anyone else and the stillness was soothing.   
“I’m gonna do this to my room back at Brakebills” he thought. Downing the last few drops straight from the bottle, he set it back on the table and got up. It was time to find the “Little Wizard’s” room. He took a large shawl from the desk at the back of the room and draped it over the sleeping woman.   
“Sweet dreams, you crazy thing.”

Wandering out, Penny began to look for a bathroom. Surely in a castle this big, there had to be hundreds of them. He went back down the stairs to the main hall. It was empty, not a trace of the large gathering that had been there.   
“Great… not even a decent sized plant around here.”  
As he walked around the first floor, Penny thought he could hear a strange song coming from one behind one of the doors he’d passed earlier. Thinking he could ask whoever was in there for some help, he opened the door and went in. It was an elaborately decorated but old-fashioned bathroom, with several 7ft tall stalls and a very elaborate set of sinks around a circular pillar in the center of the room. Thanking whatever luck brought him there, he headed to the closest stall.

“Hey!! No boys allowed in the girl’s room!” Came a high-pitched voice from behind him. Whirling around, he saw a pale shadow of a girl with long ponytails and thick glasses. She had a smug expression and floated there, two feet off the ground. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“No offense, ghost girl” Penny said, backing up with his hands in front of him. “I’m just looking for the men’s room. No one is in here so what’s the harm?”

The ghost frowned and crossed her arms.   
“*I’m* here and I do mind. The boy’s room is next door. And it’s Myrtle...NOT ghost girl”

Penny smiled and shook his head.   
“ I’ll never get used to this shit. OK, Myrtle, I’ll just take my business next door.”

He turned sideways to slide by the pouting ghost and found the next bathroom. While standing at the urinal, Myrtle materialized beside him. Penny glanced over at her, shrugged, and returned to his business.   
“Hope you’re enjoying the show, girl”

Myrtle gave a sly grin. “Nothing special to see.”

Penny gave a small chuckle while zipping up.  
“Anything I can help you with? Or do you just stalk everyone who has to pee? Is this your haunting schtick?”

Myrtle looked hurt.  
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. As for you, all the ghosts were alerted to look for you once you left the warded room. We aren’t allowed in there. We upset Professor Trelawney. Of course, most everything does that. Anyway, we are supposed to watch for you and bring you to your rooms.”

Penny hit her with his brightest smile.  
“Well, you found me. Can we stop for a snack on the way?”

Myrtle gave a girlish but creepy giggle.   
“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco Malfoy was holding court in a corner of the dungeon that served as the Slytherin common room. Eliot and Margo were lounging on an overstuffed velvet loveseat, purposely choosing a seat that only had room for two. Most in the room seemed to be jockeying for their attention, which they ignored. Draco had scored them a few bottles of Blishen’s Firewhisky that they were finishing off at an astounding rate. 

Eliot tossed back the final drink in the latest bottle.   
“Darling, this party is death. They seemed the funner group but really, they’re more the evil scientisty type. Too serious for my taste. Shall we move along and find the real party somewhere?” 

Margo set her glass on the table and leaned forward.  
“So, Draco, while I *absolutely* appreciate the fine whisky, this party just isn’t happening. You said you had… other things… we might be interested in? Cause if not, it’s time for us to run along.”

Draco looked momentarily panicked. They couldn’t leave yet. He wanted to make sure everyone saw him with them first, including Professor Snape.   
“Uhhhh…..sure! Yes, we have some other things that you might like. Crabbe! Go get the bag I got yesterday.” 

Draco’s henchman grunted and fetched back a small black velvet bag. Draco passed it over to Margo.   
“Here’s just a few things I received from my sources on the outside. Most are dark artifacts, very illegal stuff, but have my ways of getting things, you know?”

Margo passed the bag over to Eliot who pulled out a withered, severed hand and a gleaming white skull. Holding the hand by two fingers out in front of him, Eliot asked the obvious question. 

Draco smiled.   
“That there, is a Hand of Glory. You put a candle in it and it only gives you light to see by, no one else. And that is a Screaming Skill, although we had to deactivate it for the time being. Wouldn’t do for it to go off right now, would it? It’s job is to warn you of any thieves or intruders.”

Eliot put the skull back in the bag and made to put the hand back in but pocketed it instead while Draco turned his attention back to Margo. 

“These are *really* interesting and I’m sure *very* illegal and edgy. But I’m really interested in any old spell books you might have gathering dust. Wand magic is just so interesting” she said with a little bat of her eyes.. 

Draco scoffed “For that type of thing, you’d probably want Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. We don’t bother with the basics. That’s for the Mud-Bloods and the low-born wizards, like those Weasleys.”

Eliot and Margo exchanged a glance. Eliot leaned back, his face a placid mask aside from the glint in his eyes. He crossed his legs and lit another cigarette languidly. As he exhaled, he asked “So...what is a mud-blood exactly?”

Most of the room read the emotion behind the question and began to back away from the trio. Draco was oblivious to all this.   
“Oh, you know. Those so-called wizards and witches with non-magical parents. They shouldn’t be allowed in here with those of us from good magic families.”

Eliot unfolded himself slowly from the couch and stood, towering over the blonde teenager. He leaned down and offered his hand to Margo.   
“Come, dearest. I believe our time in this xenophobic little enclave has come to an end and we should sever our association sooner rather than later before people think we share these small-minded opinions.”

Turning to Draco, Eliot said “Thank you for a lovely evening and the whiskey. However as two so-called Mudbloods, I believe we detest everything you stand for so I’m afraid we have to go. And just when it was getting interesting… tsk tsk… too bad.”

Margo took Eliot’s arm and they promenaded out the door while Draco stood there with his mouth hanging open, perplexed by what just happened. 

Out in the hall, after the door shut behind them, the pair looked at each other and began to giggle. 

“Xenophobic little enclave? Really, Eliot? That was the best you could come up with?”

Eliot snorted “He’s lucky that was all I had at the moment. Little overly-entitled prick. I abhor people like that  
…BUT on the bright side, I picked up a gorgeous curio for the house. I think a severed hand would look fabulous in the kitchen.”

Margo laughed. “I consider that payment for listening to his insufferable stories for two hours”  
Looking up and down the deserted corridors, she added “Now I suppose we need to find a place to sleep. I wonder where the others wandered off to.” 

They decided to backtrack towards the Great Hall. On the way, they saw a familiar figure walking with a very pale girl.

“Margo? Do you see Penny with a floating girl? Or is the whiskey hitting harder than I thought?”

Penny waved them over. He was eating a sandwich and carrying a bottle of soda. 

“Hey. Heading for the rooms? Myrtle here is taking me that direction too. Made a stop by the kitchen first though. Myrtle, this is Eliot and Margo.”

“It’s so very nice to meet you.” Myrtle said enthusiastically, drifting up to Eliot.   
“Oh and you too” she added a little sullenly, glancing at Margo.

“Why hello, Myrtle. Would you mind if we join your little group to get to our rooms?” said Eliot, in an airy, conspiratorial voice.

Her smile got broader and she giggled that strange high-pitched giggle again.   
“Of course! Why don’t you walk right here next to me on this side so you won’t get lost.”  
The company made its way to Dean Fogg and their accommodations, Myrtle happily floating between Penny and Eliot while Margo rolled her eyes and followed behind.


	4. The Selection of Champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin makes a big mistake and the Champions are chosen!

The next morning, everyone regrouped in the Great Hall for breakfast. Quentin and Alice ate at the Gryffindor table while Eliot and Margo introduced themselves to the Ravenclaw table and began to bargain with some of their upperclassmen. Penny ended up sitting at a side table with Professor Trelawney who was more than a little hung over. 

The heads of the three competing schools were eating at the main table with the head professors. After everyone was finished, Dumbledore stood and reminded everyone that the Goblet of Fire was ready to accept the names of any past their seventeenth birthday that wished to participate in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. They had until the start of the Halloween feast that evening to submit their names on a slip of paper. 

After breakfast, Dean Fogg waved the five over to him.  
“Now, we’ll be leaving after the selection of the champions tonight so no one run off after the feast starts. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything you might find interesting or useful. I’m going to see if any of these….distinguished... individuals have anything useful to learn.” He walked off in the direction of Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore. 

“So” asked Quentin as the group walked along the corridor towards the Ravenclaw common room “Anybody going to put their name into that flaming cup?” 

Penny snorted derisively “Risking your life for a game and the glory of your school? These folks put the old in old school around here. Points for this house or that house. +10 for eating your vegetables. -10 for thinking about sex. Everything is class honor and group circle jerks about how great they are. I’m out.”

“Aw c’mon” said Quentin earnestly. “It’s like a jousting contest from King Arthur’s time. Man against nature against, well, another man.”

“Quit making it sound so sexistly chivalrous. Putting yourself in danger under controlled circumstances to prove how big a hero you are while everyone watches seems like the height of conceit to me.” retorted Alice.

Eliot and Margo rolled their eyes.  
“They’d have to offer a lot more gold to get me to even entertain the idea.” Margo added.

Eliot spotted their Ravenclaw contact at the end of the hall.  
“Bambi, there’s your man.” Eliot idly waved his hand in the direction of the young man.

As the group came up to him, Margo took the lead.  
“Michael! So nice to see you again! Did you find anything for us?”

Margo and Michael wandered towards the door to the common room while the others hung back. The group seemed to make Michael nervous. 

Quentin was looking at all the moving portraits, deep in thought, while the other three discussed what they were going to do when they got back to Brakebills. 

“Hey” he asked, turning to Alice, “What do you think would happen if someone not from the three schools put their name in? Do you think the cup would accept it?”

Alice frowned and tucked her hair behind her ear.  
“I think you are insane for even thinking of it. What if it actually pulls your name? We aren’t part of this world. Be reasonable, Q.”

Quentin looked down at his feet.  
“Just sounded like fun, that’s all”

Eliot watched the exchange with interest. The boredom of the morning made him want to stir things up a little. Plus, he needed a cigarette badly. 

“Quentin, why don’t we go watch the human sacrifice signup for a while? We can cut through the garden over there to get to it. You two can wait for Margo, right? Alice, this bunch seems right up your alley and don’t worry, I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

Penny scowled but stretched out on a nearby bench.  
“Whatever… you and your boyfriend can do whatever you want.”

Alice looked towards the open common room. She really did want to see the Ravenclaw library, which supposedly had original copies of some of the earliest magical theory books in existence. Fine, she thought, let the boys have their fun. Surely Eliot could mitigate Quentin’s crazier impulses.  
“OK, we’ll meet up with you in the Great Hall.”

Quentin straightened up and fell into step with Eliot’s long stride as they headed towards the gardens. He sometimes felt Alice spent too much time in reality when a little un-reality could be good for you. 

They took their time through the gardens, trying to figure out which plants were poisonous, which were smokable, and which would probably take your hand off. Eliot finished his cigarette just before they arrived at the side entrance to the Great Hall, setting the butt of it on fire to disintegrate it into ashes and letting it blow away on the breeze. 

They noticed that the school was very quiet, with very few people out of the classrooms. Quentin wondered how long their classes were and whether there was a bell that would ring to let everyone out. Stepping into the Great Hall, they paused to let their eyes adjust.  
Eliot motioned towards the fiery cup at the end of the hall.  
“Isn’t he a little dilapidated for this sort of thing?”

Quentin looked down the hall and saw what looked like a pirate, with a wooden leg and an eye patch that, disturbingly enough, had a moving eye on it. He stumped along, away from the cup, looking around nervously. He caught sight of the two men coming in and changed direction, heading straight towards them. 

“Oy! You two! What are you doing out of class?”

As he came closer, he grunted and gestured at them.  
“Oh, it’s just you bunch. Don’t you have something to be doing besides wandering the halls? For all we know, the Dark Lord sent you all to test our defenses.”

Quentin twisted the satchel strap between his hands. He didn’t like confrontation.  
“I’m….sorry? We just wanted to see…” he started to say.

“...whether there was any of those delightful biscuits were left from breakfast. Would you happen to know where we could get some, Professor…. I’m sorry, what was your name?” finished Eliot, stepping into Quentin’s explanation.

The man squinted at Eliot while the eye on the patch focused on Quentin. He seemed to be evaluating them.  
“Alastor Moody, Defense against the Dark Arts. Mad-Eye to those who know me. Professor Moody to you. Looking for food, eh?”  
Finally he seemed satisfied with their explanation and whatever it was he was looking for in their faces. He pointed to a door behind the dais where the faculty sat.  
“The kitchen’s back there. The house elves should be able to help you out. Stay out of trouble, you two, or I’ll hear about it. I hear and see everything that happens here.”

Professor Moody stomped out of the hall as fast as his bad leg would let him. Quentin turned to Eliot.  
“What was that for? We didn’t have to lie. We’re allowed to see the goblet.”

Eliot started towards their destination.  
“That man was obviously up to something and wanted to see if we’d seen him doing whatever it was. Hopefully, he just thinks we were chatting merrily away, looking for some food and completely ignoring the large, flaming table setting piece in the middle of the room. I wouldn’t doubt that he is now filing away our presence here as an excuse for something if things go haywire. So go look at your cup and then let’s go to the kitchens to solidify the alibi.”

Quentin looked back at the door that Professor Moody had left through to be sure he was gone and hurried after Eliot, who stepped over the age line and stopped right in front of the goblet.  
“Doesn’t look any different than before. Hey, did you notice he said something about a ‘Dark Lord’. Wonder if that’s the local bogeyman to scare small children around here.”

Sighing, he stepped around the cup.  
“Let’s get to the kitchens. Biscuits and jam actually does sound quaintly good right now.”

Eliot strode off towards the door indicated by Moody. He assumed Quentin was following him so he didn’t notice Quentin take a page from a small notebook out and write his name and school on it. Nor did he notice Quentin slip the paper into the cup where the blue flames flared up and appeared to consume the paper. 

“Coming!” He said as he hurried after Eliot, smiling. The cup took the name!

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Margo found Alice rifling through the pages of a 500-year-old manuscript in the Ravenclaw library.  
“Just the person I wanted to see. What do you think of these?” She dropped 5 books in front of Alice. They were leather-bound but no more than 50 years old, aside from the last one. Alice flipped through the first couple. “Basics of Wand Handling” and “Quirkle’s Potions for Common Misadventures” seemed to be generic text book type information. The next book was called “Abracadabra: an A to Z of Spooky Spells” and contained a large amount of odd spells that dealt with weird and unexplainable things. The final two looked older than the first three. “The Book of Charms and Spells” and the simply named “Book of Spells” had several spells Alice had never heard of before. The “Book of Spells” seemed much older than the others, possibly over 100.

Alice pushed them back towards Margo.  
“Interesting group. We should be able to pick up some decent wand magic. What did you trade for it?”

Margo smiled deviously.  
“Just a severed hand that Eliot picked up at the Slytherin common room. I knew Draco would be useful. Oh, and I picked us up a couple of extra training wands. Michael threw those in as a gift to my beauty.”

Alice gently closed her manuscript and placed it back on the shelf.  
“Of course he did. C’mon, let’s go find everyone before Quentin does something stupid.”

Margo gathered up the books and the two girls headed out, waking Penny on the way and taking him with them.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, everyone gathered in the Great Hall after dinner to witness the selection of champions. Dumbledore was making a speech but the Brakebills’ five were only concerned with when they could go back to campus. Or, more precisely, four of them were talking about what they were going to do the next day while one was halfheartedly participating while trying to listen closely to the rules of the tournament that Dumbledore reciting. Quentin began to regret his decision to put his name in the cup while swiping a snack with Eliot. What if his name came out? He was pretty sure the head of Drumstrang would rather have his ears cut off than have an American team participate. Which, honestly, made Quentin want to do it more. What would the Dean do? He was pretty sure that ticking off the dean never ended well for anyone. 

“It has come to our attention that Brakebills seeks to join in the festivities this year.” intoned Dumbledore. Dean Fogg instantly turned his mostly sightless eyes on Quentin with a frown. The other four rolled their eyes and sighed. 

Alice vehemently whispered, “THIS is why you can’t leave him by himself or, apparently, with Eliot!”

Quentin, in turn, looked at the ground and gulped. 

Dumbledore continued, “While we can not allow full status within the tournament without a vote within the Ministry, the three participating schools have decided to allow probationary acceptance of the chosen candidate if the cup selects him or her. While we cannot house them here, per ministry rules regarding outside practitioners of magic, we extend an invitation for them and a small entourage to return for each of the trials. So, let us begin…”  
Dumbledore took out his wand and dimmed the lights. Quiet descended on the hall while everyone watched the goblet flowing in the darkness. 

Three times, the goblet’s flames turned red and a tongue of flame spit out a name. Everyone celebrated as their particular champion went through the door for further instructions then settled down again to watch the cup for another few minutes. Just as murmurs were starting that the cup had rejected all of the unusual hand-wavers, it turned red and spit out another name. 

“Quentin Coldwater will be the champion of Brakebills!” Everyone politely clapped and turned to look at Quentin. His mouth fell open and he was both terrified and exhilarated. The goblet seemed to think he was worthy. That was really all he wanted. Competing was secondary. 

Dean Fogg called out “Well, come on, Quentin! Up here and through that door. “  
Eliot clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a shove forward. Quentin tried to stand tall as he walked through the door. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After he was in the room for a few minutes, his friend Harry came in behind him. He started to greet him, thinking he’d come to say congratulations or good luck or what are you doing, you idiot, but something about his face stopped him. Harry looked scared and confused. 

Suddenly the room was full of the officials and heads of the various schools. Dean Fogg stood near Quentin and pulled him back into a corner. A fight seemed to be breaking out over Harry’s presence in the room. 

“Just stay still and let them sort this out, Mr. Coldwater. This is an internal matter and it’s best if they forget we are here while discussing it. Hopefully your entry will not be seen as the reason for this discrepancy.” Dean Fogg said in a barely audible voice. 

Harry was questioned for a bit. Then Professor Dumbledore, Madam Maxine from Beauxbatons, and Professor Karkaroff from Durmstrang argued for a bit, with Professor Moody wading into it and almost starting a physical fight with Karkaroff. 

The gist of it, as far as Quentin could tell, is that Harry’s name came out of the goblet even though Hogwarts had a champion in that prefect that told Eliot to quit smoking the night before. 

Either way, the politician looking men from some Ministry of Magic seemed to win the fight and they allowed Harry in. More rules were stated and then they were set free. All Quentin really took in was that he was bound by a magical contract to compete. 

Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman, the head of Department of Magical Games and Sports, informed Dean Fogg and Quentin that they were allowed to leave that evening as planned as they would not be needed for the “Weighing of the Wands” since Quentin didn’t use one. 

Dean Fogg left the room, Quentin in tow.

“Well, I hope you understand what you’ve done now. You, Quentin Coldwater, are the representative of all magicians in the new world to these people. If you do poorly, they will use that as an excuse to ignore us. If you do well, some may see us as a threat.”

Quentin sulked a little.  
“The goblet thought I was worthy of competing. Shouldn’t that count for something?” he asked.

The dean turned to look at him through his dark glasses.  
“Do you know why we are here, Quentin? It’s not this silly game we want to play to see whose wand is bigger than whose. It’s not really to even build a better relationship between the continents or any of that diplomatic nonsense. I’m here to see if anyone here knows anything about the Beast or can help us defend against him. I’m hoping that because their system is so radically different than ours, they might have weapons we can use that he won’t know about. That, dear boy, is why I came here. “

He resumed walking.  
“And now, I have to deal with this thanks to your overblown sense of fantasy. Now, all of you, go fetch your things so we can get back home.” he added as they reached the rest of their group. 

Alice immediately spun around and started to head for Gryffindor. Quentin tried to fall into step with her but it was a struggle with as fast as she was walking.  
“Alice, wait!”

“Don’t talk to me! How could you do something so stupid? Did you miss all the warnings about how dangerous this tournament is? What kind of idiot are you?”

Quentin grabbed her arm, stopping her forward motion for a moment. 

“Vix, please, just talk to me? I know it was stupid but… I don’t know… it seemed the thing to do. We need new magic. They have new magic. This could be a chance to really get an up close look at what they can do!”  
Shit, he thought, THAT is what I should have told the Dean. 

Alice considered him for a moment.  
“No, you did it because you wanted to see if it would select you. It was another test that you wanted to pass because that’s how you evaluate your worth. Except this time you gambled with a whole lot more than just your GPA. I hope you know that.”

Quentin sighed as she continued on ahead, him following a few steps behind. Everyone was hoping he knew things today. As always, he felt he really knew nothing.  
As they returned to the Great Hall, Eliot greeted him with “All hail our very own virtuoso of magic...the great American hope!”

“Shut. Up. Eliot”

Dean Fogg came up.  
“Ok, Penny, ready to give it a go again? Let’s just try a jump to London then leave from there. It may be easier to get through with less distance to cover.”

Penny snorted.  
“I’m pretty sure that’s what you said about the long distance jump being the best way when we came here.”

Everyone put a hand on Penny’s shoulders and tried to channel energy towards him. Penny closed his eyes and focused on anything he knew about London. Big Ben was the only thing that came to mind so he focused on the view up at Big Ben from below, hopefully landing them on a sidewalk and not 300 feet in the air. 

With a deep breath from the traveler, the group vanished from view, startling the ghosts that had been circling the ceiling above them.


	5. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group contemplates how to keep Quentin alive through the first trial.

Alice and Margo went through the spell books they brought back but nothing in them stood out as anything they couldn’t replicate with their hands. 

“As far as I can tell, the wand is just a way for them to focus and amplify the energy they already have. It probably was a way for those with only so-so innate magical abilities to survive in the past and it stuck to become the basis of their system.” concluded Alice, while debriefing the rest of the group over drinks in the common room. 

“The reason they have so much emphasis on ‘the wand picking them’ is that it needs to harmonize with their natural energy.” Margo chimed in. “Carrying one around all the time must be a drag though. Most of my best outfits wouldn’t have anywhere to put it.”

Eliot stood up to refresh his drink.  
“You, darling, would create a must-have accessory bag of some type to carry it with style”

Quentin paced around, trying not to think about the fact he was going to have to go back next week for his first trial in the tournament. Penny and he had been brainstorming for the last several days over what the first event could possibly be. Everything and nothing sounded plausible. Quentin didn’t know any battle magic so he was going to have to depend on his wits and whatever spells he could drum up quickly. That didn’t make him very confident about his chances. 

While he was stewing on the increasing possibility of his imminent failure, he heard a tapping. At first, he assumed it was Penny just being a jerk, tapping on his glass to distract Quentin from coming up with a solution. But looking over, he saw that Penny was dozing in the corner armchair. The tapping continued so he searched for the source. Finally, he saw movement outside the front window and went to see what it was.

Outside the window was a snowy white owl. Quentin recognized it from his night in Gryffindor. It was Hedwig, Harry’s pet owl. In its beak was a folded, sealed piece of paper addressed to him. Quentin took the note and stroked the owl’s silky feathers for a moment. Hedwig then turned and flew off. 

Quentin shut the window and brought the note back into the common room, opening it on the way. Inside was the simple message “Dragons - H.P.”.

“What’s that, Q?” asked Alice.

“Ummm…. It looks like the first trial is going to be dragons.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once the room settled down, Quentin dropped in shock on the couch and showed them the note, explaining about Harry’s owl. 

“You must have made quite the impression on that adorable young man. I’m very jealous now.” Eliot said, tossing the note on the table and patting Quentin on the head. 

“So...Dragons… how the hell is *he* going to defeat a dragon?” said Penny, pointing at the jittery, young man. 

Quentin shifted on the couch uncomfortably.  
“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here. What kind of dragons are we talking about here? Lizard-sized? Horse-sized? Godzilla-sized? How the hell does the world not know that dragons are real?“

Alice sighed and began pacing, working through the problem in her head.  
“Somewhere between horse and Godzilla, leaning more towards Godzilla. This simply can’t be just a ‘kill the dragon” test. There must be a trick of some kind. Something you have to do. So let’s focus on defensive skills and a couple of last ditch type of things to just stir up some chaos. Oh, and a lot of fireproofing. ”

She stopped as the other four just stared at her.  
“What? It’s like studying for a test. Try to keep the most likely questions in your head and have lots of generic nonsense to throw out there if it turns into an essay question. Honestly people....Test Taking 101.”

Eliot stood up and raised his glass in a toast.  
“To Quentin! Now let’s shove enough magic into his pretty head to keep him alive.”


	6. The First Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Dragon Time!!!

The group materialized outside of Hogsmeade Station amid less smoke and ash than the first time.

Penny dusted himself off.  
“Much easier without those bloody wards to get through.”

Dumbledore, the other champions, and their entourages were waiting for them. The crowd stood by a series of carriages waiting to take the entire group to the trial in a cleared field within the Forbidden Forest.

“Greetings, Brakebills!” exclaimed Dumbledore “Thank you for meeting us here, outside the wards of Hogwarts. Your last entrance proved a little hard on our existing wards, necessitating a slight touch up. I trust you are prepared to start shortly? For those who are not competing, food will be provided, especially for your travelling friend. I suspect your champion wouldn’t be able to handle any food at this point anyway.” 

He gestured to the front two carriages.  
“We’ve reserved those two for you and your equipment, if any. You will find a tournament uniform in black and white on the front seat of the foremost carriage. There will be a place to change once we arrive. ”

Eliot, Quentin, and Margo got in the first carriage with the uniform while Dean Fogg, Alice, and Penny got in the second. Everyone else piled into their respective carriages and they set off through the Hogwarts’ gates.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Quentin admired himself in his new uniform. The black and white shirt with the “bee-n-key” crest fit well but he really liked the loose robe that went over it, white on the interior, black on the exterior. If he was going to die today, at least he would look good doing it. 

He never got a moment alone with Harry to thank him for the warning but they exchanged nods in passing as they gathered around Barty Crouch, head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. 

Crouch was having each champion pull something out of a drawstring bag. They were tiny, live dragons. Quentin reached in and drew a Hebridean Black, its purple eyes shining in the torch light with dark glinting scales. At first, he was relieved that the dragon he was warned about was so small. Then he heard the entire task. 

They were to each face a full-sized dragon guarding a golden egg. Their job was simply to obtain the golden egg in one piece, by any means. They would be scored based on success, originality, injuries, and anything else the judges thought needed judging. Quentin would get to go first as Brakebills was not an official entrant. His trial would be more like an exhibition match to warm up the crowd. 

As he waited for his cue to enter the dragon pit, Quentin closed his eyes and tried to center his thoughts like Alice taught him but it was no use. His mind would not settle. It endlessly circled on movie images of dragons, all scales and teeth, and flames. Shaking his head, he started to get angry. If he couldn’t gain calm and control, then he’d follow Eliot’s advice to think of all the things that made him angry and focus all of that into a tight ball of rage to unleash around him. Now *that* was some useful advice. Quentin always had things that made him angry, even if he had to be careful not to let it slip into self-loathing. Depression and anger were two sides of a coin for him. 

He thought about how the other champions looked at him when they got there. Harry had greeted him, looking so very young and scared. Cedric had greeted him stiffly but not unpleasantly, distracted by his own thoughts. Fleur Delacour, the distractingly beautiful Beaubaxton champion, had completely ignored him. And the Durmstrang champion, Viktor Krum, pointedly turned away, snubbing him. 

There… that was what he needed. That oversized, over-muscled, overly entitled pretty boy thought he was better than him. Quentin felt that familiar tingle as his magic began to gather in his hands. Proving Krum wrong might be enough to get him through this alive. Quentin nursed his hatred for everyone who had ever underestimated him, listening to the crowd roar as the first dragon…*his* dragon… was brought in.

He became aware of Dean Fogg standing next to him.   
“Well, Quentin, this is it. Are you ready?”

“I don’t think anyone is ever ready to face a fire-breathing, giant lizard that wants to eat you.”

“That is probably the most intelligent thing to ever come out of your mouth. And it doesn’t want to eat you, just kill you.”

“Uhhhh….thanks for that. Any ancient wisdom to give me about fighting these things?”

“Keep moving. Hebridean Blacks are notoriously bad tempered but easily distracted. You need to get it directed towards something else so you can grab the egg. Then run like hell.”

Quentin grimaced as he listened to the roar of his dragon. “I think I have that last part down already.”

Dean Fogg clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck, son. I’ll be in the stands. Make us look good.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eliot, Penny, Alice, and Margo took up a bench on the front row of the Gryffindor area of the Hogwarts section. The surrounding crowd was polite, shielding the newcomers from the hoots and jeers of Slytherin. Eliot and Penny were passing a flask back and forth ostensibly to stay warm in the chill November air. Alice was sitting very still, hands clutched tightly in her lap, seeming intensely interested in the pattern of her skirt.   
Margo looked bored as she glanced down from the stands at the 30 ft. long Scottish dragon, coiling around a golden egg in the center of the deep pit. Its long sharp talons dug into the rock behind it.  
“So that’s what a dragon really looks like. Larger than I expected.” she offhandedly commented to Eliot, taking the flask from him for a quick drink. 

Dean Fogg settled into the VIP area with the heads and faculty of the other schools.

Trumpets sounded from the four corners of the arena. The Hebridean Black raised her head and roared a deafening challenge in response. Silence fell over the crowd and the arena as a whole. 

A murmur went through the stands as Quentin appeared in the small tunnel opening at the bottom of the pit. He had his hands in front of his eyes, index and middle fingers touching. As he emerged into the light, his fingers went into a diamond pattern and twisted together. Pulling his hands apart, a dark spot began to grow between them. 

“Here we go again. It’s Welters all over. Alice, you might want to get ready.” Margo said, glancing at the tense blonde beside her. She was surprised to see Alice smiling triumphantly.   
“Yes! He’s got this. We worked on his control after the last match. Go, Quentin!”

The dragon noticed Quentin and reared up on its hind legs, unfurling its wings. Quentin took a deep breath and pushed the spinning vortex up and out, settling it halfway between the two of them, about 35 feet high. The vortex expanded and roared as it began to pull anything loose towards it. Several wands emerged from the faculty section as the professors threw up protective shields to keep the vortex from pulling anything outside the pit into it. 

The dragon hesitated for a moment, warily eyeing the black hole. Finally, he decided to ignore it and charged Quentin. When it crossed into the vortex’s influence, rocks and sand pelted the dragon in a swirling tornado-like fashion, embedding sand underneath its scales. It backed out and roared, frustrated at this barrier to its prey. 

Quentin watched the dragon feeling around for the edges of the vortex. The Hebridean started moving around to the right of it.. The young man moved opposite of the dragon, trying to keep the vortex between him and it. More slowly than he would have liked, he managed to work his way around to the golden egg side of the pit, with the dragon now blocking his way out. When he picked up the egg, the dragon roared and blasted a sphere of fire at him, most of which went up into the vortex. That was the final straw for the protective dragon. It charged into the vortex field, ignoring all the hits from flying rocks. 

Quentin dropped the egg, freeing his hands, and pulled the vortex down on top of the creature. This condensed the field into a literal sandstorm, blinding the beast caught in its influence. Quentin grabbed the egg and bolted towards the exit, doing his best to dodge the talons and tail that were thrashing about. Just before he got to the opening, he was knocked to the ground by a glancing blow from its back leg. The egg flew free and rolled into the corridor. Quentin crawled after it. He scooped up the egg and ran out of the pit, stopping momentarily to dissipate the black hole. 

The crowd sat there stunned for a moment then roared their approval. 

“Very interesting choice, Dean Fogg! Your young champion has a unique touch about him.” complimented Dumbledore. 

“Thank you, Professor. Unique is a good word for that particular student.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The rest of the competitors fared equally well although with a few more injuries. Quentin was scraped and banged up as well as mentally exhausted but nothing that some iodine, sleep, and alcohol couldn’t solve. 

Quentin didn’t get scored as only a probationary participant but Alice told him that most in the Hogwarts area thought he would have done well, especially with his lack of major injuries. Afterwards, Alice, Margo, and Eliot greeted him in the tent with a group hug. Penny gave him a fist bump and a “good job not embarrassing us” which is about as high of praise as Penny ever gave. 

“That will give them something to think about next time they wonder if we use *real* magic!” said Margo.

Quentin changed back into his regular clothes and put his folded up uniform into his satchel. All he needed to do now was wait for final instructions then he could go home.

He managed to get a few words with Harry before leaving, thanking him for the clue. 

“It seemed fair. Everyone else found out just by being here.” Harry explained. 

After being informed that the golden egg was the clue to the next trial, which would be in three months, Quentin was released to Dean Fogg. Two of the carriages from the morning were waiting at the front door to take them back to the train station along with Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. 

“Safe journeys, Brakebills. Dean Fogg, I will do some research on your questions. Perhaps your problem and our problem are not so far apart in the solution.”

“Thank you, Professor. I will send you anything I can find to help your situation also. Until February then.”

Gathering around Penny once they got to the station, the group placed their hands on the traveler and vanished, leaving only a few motes of dust swirling in the air.


	7. The Secret of the Egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang's all here and trying to figure out what to do with this egg.

It took Quentin a few weeks before he felt up to opening the golden egg. He slept the first few days after back. Then he caught up on the school work he’d been ignoring in the run up to the trial. The only reminder of the trials that he paid attention to was the tiny dragon they’d let him keep. It lived in an aquarium in Quentin’s room and accompanied him to classes occasionally. The rest of the Physical kids dubbed him Lord Scotch. 

Finally, one quiet evening, while he and Eliot were polishing off a bottle of wine, he decided it was time to see what was so special about this egg. Quentin pulled it off the shelf and pried it open. After a brief moment of silence, a screeching wail emitted from the empty interior of the egg and permeated the house. Everyone came running into the common room to see who was dying.

Quentin slammed the egg shut, silencing the caterwauling.   
“Unless someone here took a class in translating Banshee, I’m not sure how this egg is helpful in the least!”

“Those banshees noises are still better than you singing in your head!” said Penny, picking up the egg to examine it more closely. 

“Oh leave the boy to his T-Swizzle songs. They keep him from being all mopey and emo.” said Eliot as he walked over to the window in the kitchen.   
“I think you’re on the right track though, Q. While this was definitely not a Banshee… been there, done that, long story…. I feel like I’ve heard something similar before.” 

Margo stopped as she was heading out the door. She looked puzzled and leaned against the kitchen door frame, deep in thought.  
“You’re right, darling. We’ve heard that before. When the hell was it?”

Quentin wracked his brain, trying to think of any mythical beasts or legendary humanoids that might shriek in such an awful fashion. Sirens? They were supposed to sing beautifully and lure men to their deaths, not shriek until men wanted to die. Strega? Didn’t sound Italian and anyway, was that also a liqueur? Harpies? Quentin had no idea what they would sound like. 

Eliot set a pan on the stove to get dinner started.  
“I think it might have been a couple of years ago when we first set up that portal to London. I’m having a strong flashback to thick British accents, lots of good gin, and bad swimwear choices on the beach.”

Margo snapped her fingers and straightened up.  
“That’s it! We went to that arch.. Ummm… Durdle Door in Dorset! Remember, Eliot?”

Eliot dropped the onions he’d been chopping into the sizzling pan with the meat and vegetables and stirred it gently.   
“I’d almost forgotten about that part! Oh and there was that adorable rower from Cambridge and his history major friend that we convinced to come along, basically to carry our things.”

Margo laughed.  
“Laurence and Reginald! They were fun. We had them convinced that Durdle Door was the heart of black magic in all of England and they wanted to go check it out for themselves. They didn’t find much magic but we all discovered that sand is not a very conducive element for, shall we say, adult activity?”

Quentin threw up his hands.  
“Dear lord, stop! I can’t be the only one that doesn’t want to hear details about that. What about the shrieking? Does any of this story pertain to that?”

“Well, ok, if you want to skip the good parts…. When Eliot and I made it down the ghastly amount of stairs cut into a cliff side, we heard a shrieking near the actual arch, which is out into the water. When we got closer, it stopped. Laurey and Reggie waded into the ocean to see if anyone in the arch needed help. When they got back, they said no one was there but they heard what sounded like faint singing on their way back. They chalked it up to just a weird effect of the ocean swirling around that arch. But the sound in the egg was very similar, if a hundred times louder.”

“So we’re looking for something that is aquatic, lives in England, and might be musical. That’s not ringing any bells.” Quentin flopped on the couch next to Alice. “Anyone got a database of all unreal creatures that just happen to be real, searchable by characteristics? ”

Alice cleared her throat.   
“Nooooo… but I think I know what Margo and Eliot heard. It was probably a merperson. Since Hogwarts is in England, I’d guess it’s the Selkie species as they live in colder waters. When they are above water, their voices sound like nails on a chalkboard. You can only truly understand them when they’re underwater.”

Penny looked up from his examination of the egg.  
“So if we dunk this in water, it won’t sound like someone is being murdered by a chainsaw?”

Going upstairs, Quentin and Penny filled the bathtub. Once the water covered the egg, Penny opened it up. The interior of the egg lit up but no noise. They sat there in silence looking at it. Very faintly, they heard the slightest hint of music coming from the tub. 

Penny looked at Quentin.  
“Take a deep breath.” He grabbed Quentin’s hair on the back of his head and pushed him head first under the water, holding him down next to the egg. 

Quentin was too shocked to struggle at first but quickly began to fight against the hands holding him down. Then, he heard a sound. It was coming from the egg. Otherworldly voices were singing a ghostly song that echoed off the porcelain tub walls. 

“Come seek us where our voices sound,  
We cannot sing above the ground.  
And while you’re searching, ponder this:  
We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss.  
An hour long you’ll have to look,  
And to recover what we took,  
But past an hour -- the prospect’s black,  
Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”

Penny hauled him back up just as the last note sounded. Quentin fell back, gasping for air.   
“What the hell, man?”

“Seemed faster that way. And more fun for me. So did it work?”

Quentin grabbed a hanging towel and began rubbing the water out of his hair.   
“Looks like Alice is right as usual. Mermaids or men or….people, I guess”  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eliot gingerly picked up the towel Quentin left on the couch and tossed it into the kitchen.  
“Sounds pretty straight forward. The selkies are going to take something you value and you have to find and retrieve it. The only problem to solve is the whole not drowning thing.” 

Alice was flipping through Morgan Balthasar’s Surviving the Apocalypse and Other Uses for Everyday Magic.  
“I know I saw something in here...a spell to pull oxygen from the water… Here it is! Reverse Skin Condensation. That plus something to allow you to see in the darkness of the lakes up there and something to protect from the cold…. You should be in business.”

Quentin took the book from her and started studying the intricate hand work.   
“So, what do you think they’re going to try to take?”

Eliot laughed as he collapsed across the length of the couch.   
“Hopefully they’ll steal your entire wardrobe and never give it back. So, exactly how good a swimmer are you?”

Quentin sat back and went pale.   
“Crap… forgot about that part.”

Alice looked over and sighed.  
“Alright, I’ll see what I can find.”


	8. The Second Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial at Black Lake. But what was it that Quentin would "sorely miss"?

“How is the lake not frozen over? It’s the middle of bloody winter!”   
Quentin rubbed his arms trying to warm up as the Brakebills group entered Hogwart’s front door. Penny had dropped them at the train station again. The open sleigh ride to the school froze most of them solid. However, Margo and Alice didn’t feel the cold thanks to a spell from Balthazar’s book. They modified to it to allow them to wear skirts and boots instead of pants in arctic temperatures. Eliot and Penny made fun of them at the time but now, they looked on enviously as the girls strolled into the Great Hall, coats open, no hats, gloves off. Quentin knew the spell but wanted to conserve his strength for what was ahead. 

The trial was not scheduled until late morning but Professor Dumbledore asked that all participants be there early to allow time to get the competitors checked out before going to the lake. Everyone was at breakfast when they arrived and once again, they had a table set up at the end of the Gryffindor row. 

Quentin picked at his plate of biscuits and gravy while everyone else dug in. The swimming and spell practice over the last couple of months taught him that the emptier his stomach the better. The Reverse Condensation spell always left him a little nauseous. Alice blamed the skin around his ears “breathing” unevenly and messing up his inner ear but whatever it was, he just couldn’t keep anything down while the spell was active. 

Towards the end of the meal, a Ravenclaw prefect walked over to their table. Eliot leaned back and flashed the newcomer a bright smile.  
“Edward! How fabulous to see you again. What can I... personally... help you with?”

The dark-haired young man smiled back, blushing slightly.  
“Hi Eliot! Can I borrow you for a minute? I need your advice on some wine for the prefect’s after party tonight. We hope we’re celebrating Cedric’s win. Oh...no offense…” he added, glancing at Quentin, who waved it off.

After Eliot left, Margo explained that during the last trial, Eliot had chatted up Edward who was sitting nearby. They discovered a shared love of good food and wine over a hidden flask of cheap vodka. The fact that Eliot thought Edward was adorable in a puppy sort of way didn’t hurt either.

“Well” said Penny “Fogg said we’re supposed to make friends. That’s one way to do it.” 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
After a few hours, everyone headed down to the lake, just south of Hogwarts. Black Lake looked as ominous as its name on the overcast grey morning. Everyone was wrapped up against the February chill with the exception of the participants, who were wearing thick robes over their swimming gear. 

Quentin looked out over the crowd but couldn’t see the few Brakebills kids among the throng of students. He hadn’t really seen any of them much since just before they came down here. Just as well… he needed to focus anyway. The spells had to be done in the right order. If he did the Protection from Cold spell before the Reverse Condensation, he risked cooking himself as all his body heat would be trapped inside his skin instead of just outside the breathing layer. 

Standing on the platform next to the other four, he listened to Dumbledore explain the rules. They had one hour to find and retrieve an item that had been taken from them without their knowledge. Quentin thought hard. He hadn’t brought anything of value with him and as far as he knew, nothing was missing. He wondered what they had for him down in the inky water.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of talking to everyone standing in the cold, the signal was given and the trial began. 

Quentin tried to ignore the others entering the water to the loud cheering from the crowd. Dropping his robe, he began to layer his spells over his quickly freezing body, clad only in swim trunks and a thin t-shirt. First, a customized mix of Evendell's Dark Vision and Bubble Eyes for seeing clearly underwater in low to no light. Then, Mariana's Water Wings to help improve the speed of his pathetic swim flailing. He took a deep breath and cast Balthazar’s Reverse Condensation, which had the unfortunate side effect of cutting off his ability to break normal air. Quickly, he added Protection from Cold which stopped the shivering as his skin felt like a heat lamp had been turned on and luckily had no verbal components. Ready or not, it was time to move. 

Quentin stepped off the edge of the platform and sank below the surface. Immediately, he felt the strange sensation of a breeze caressing his skin and oxygen flowing into his lungs without him breathing. When he first learned Reverse Condensation, the hardest part was overcoming the panic attack of not inhaling. Getting his bearings, Quentin spun himself to point downward and began to pull his arms through the water, driving himself down into the lake. The Water Wings spell made his body cut through the water, each arm movement magnified to produce a much larger than average propulsion. 

After several minutes, he came to the bottom of the lake. The vegetation covering the bottom made Quentin nervous. It seemed alive and he swore he saw faces with large sharp teeth peering out at him. He ran through the aquatic beings Alice drilled into his head. It looked like possibly a grindylow. Best to avoid those things. He altered the angle of his descent, gliding about 15 ft above the swaying water plants, hopefully out of reach of anything living in them.

He hadn’t seen anyone else yet which concerned him. Time passed quickly down here but he didn’t have anyway of knowing how long he’d been under. He probably spent 5-10 minutes getting his spells in place so he had at most 50 minutes to find his missing whatever it was. By now, it was probably more like 30 minutes. His spells were keyed for just slightly over an hour so speed was a priority.

Off to his right, Quentin began to hear haunting music. The lyrics were a little different but it was the same song from the egg. He changed direction and began to swim towards the sound.

Soon, he came to a small underwater village, straight out of a bad movie about the stone age. It stood next to a huge rock that loomed out of the dimly lit water. The rock was covered in paintings of merpeople. Quentin swam by, still following the song. He could now see merpeople swimming through the water just at the edge of his vision. The were gray with twisted and tangled green hair. Their silver tails flashed as they moved quickly through the water, not approaching him but not hiding either. More and more appeared until he found a crowd standing in front of a gigantic rough-hewn statue of a merperson. Most formed a choir, singing the song that drew Quentin to this location. Tied to the statue were 5 people, floating listlessly, as if asleep or dead. He recognized Ron and Hermione right away. Next to them was a small girl, maybe eight, with silver hair waving gently with the current. He remembered seeing her with that competitor from the French school. There was another, older girl too in a Ravenclaw uniform but he didn’t remember ever meeting her. Finally, looking unnaturally tall and gangly next to the tiny girls, was Eliot. 

Eliot was what he’d “sorely miss”? Quentin snorted at the idea but admitted to himself he was not at all happy to see one of his friends being used as a pawn in this ridiculous game. In fact, it made him angry, really angry. Eliot would never have volunteered so this was kidnapping, plain and simple. 

Quentin saw Harry floating near Ron, who’s rope was now cut. Cedric was rising to the surface with the Ravenclaw girl already. Harry waved to catch his attention and pointed to Eliot. He held up a jagged rock but Quentin shook his head no and swam over to the unconscious, floating man. Eliot was so still and pale. Quentin slid his fingers down Eliot’s neck, looking for a pulse. It was there, slow but steady and quelled the nagging worry Quentin wouldn’t even admit he’d had when he first saw him. 

Grabbing the bindings around Eliot’s waist, he tugged as hard as he could but they held tight. Following the rope down below Eliot’s feet, Quentin hovered for a moment, trying to remember the correct motions. Then with a few quick hand movements and a slashing motion, the rope fell into two pieces. 

As Eliot began to drift, a monstrous shark-headed figure sped by towards Hermione. Quentin watched as Harry gave the monster the rock knife he’d been holding. He realized that must be the jerk from Durmstrang, half-transfigured in some fashion. 

A shiver ran through his body and Quentin realized he could faintly taste lake water. His time was running out and the spells were weakening. He had to get out of there. Looking back at Harry, he could see the boy facing down an angry mob of merpeople. For a second, he was torn but a second shiver helped make his decision. He needed to get Eliot to safety first. Then he could try to redo the spells and help Harry. Grabbing Eliot’s hand, he began to strain towards the surface. His Water Wings spell was not as effective and with Eliot’s extra weight, it felt like he was making no progress at all. With maddening slowness, they rose.

As he struggled to the surface, Quentin wondered why they’d picked Eliot. Wouldn’t Alice have been the logical choice? He smiled briefly at the thought of how mad Eliot was going to be, getting his outfit ruined for one of Quentin’s nonsensical things but the action made him cough as water bubbled into his mouth. He pulled and swam with all his might, finally breaking through the surface, hauling up Eliot by his shirt collar. Then Quentin began to focus on trying to not sink under, his practically non-existent swimming skills manifesting as his spells melted away. 

As soon as his head broke the surface, Eliot open his eyes and began to cough up lake water.   
“What the fuck, Q? These are my favorite shoes! Completely ruined!”

He started to tread water. Noticing Quentin’s struggle, Eliot tucked his arm under Quentin’s to help hold him up. A huge roar from the crowd erupted as Harry, Ron, and the small girl, Fleur’s little sister, emerged from the water. The group made their way to the dock. Eliot helped the girl out first followed by Quentin, who flopped on his back as a thick blanket was thrown over him.   
“Shouldn’t I be helping you out?”  
Eliot pulled himself out of the water, grabbing the blanket being handed him.   
“If you were less than useless in the water…”   
He wrapped up and sat next to Quentin, turning to lean over him, head cocked to one side and a sly smirk on his face.  
“So... I’m the thing you miss the most?”

Quentin rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket tighter around him.  
“Just shut up, please…”  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The scoring was just as strange this time around as the last. The judges consulted with the head of the merpeople, Merchieftainess Murcus, about what happened under the water. 

Cedric was the only one who had finished properly, getting his girlfriend back to the surface closest to the one hour time frame. He scored the most points from all the judges. Fleur received the lowest score for making a decent attempt but failing to complete the task. Viktor received decent points although he only partially completed his attempted transformation.

Quentin, while not receiving official points was placed before both Fleur and Viktor for retrieving his person without assistance and for “interesting layering of multiple spells”. Harry placed second for assisting the other participants and working to retrieve the two remaining people despite it being against the rules for some reason. Quentin had the distinct impression that not everyone on the judging panel was happy with that result. 

“The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June.” announced the head of the tournament. “Thank you all for your support of the champions!”

Quentin and Eliot waved at the rest of the Brakebills crew as they headed to the infirmary with the rest of the champions and hostages to get checked out. After getting medical clearance and dry clothes, they were released to Dean Fogg and headed to the celebratory dinner before they had to return home. 

For the next several hours, Quentin retold the tale of the trial, making himself look better and better each time. Eliot participated for a while but Edward appeared about an hour into the party.   
Leaning close to Quentin, Eliot whispered laughingly, “ Try not to miss me too much…” before disappearing with Edward for the rest of the evening. 

Quentin sighed and turned to Alice.   
“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”  
She smiled.  
“Maybe in a few decades.”


	9. The Third Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a-maze-ing! (Sorry!)  
> The Brakebills five find out about the third trial, discuss the Beast a bit, and Quentin finds not necessarily wonderful surprises await in the massive maze.

“You’re joking….a maze? That’s it?” 

Dean Fogg adjusted his glasses. His eyes always ached at this time of day. The dimming outside light made it difficult to focus. He looked at Quentin, who was pacing back and forth around the living room of the Physical Kids’ house. The rest of the group was scattered around the room, 

“I would suspect that it is not just a common corn maze from some country state fair. But I will concur that it sounds much easier than anything they’ve given you so far. Anyway, I wanted to pass on the news so you can prepare.”

Penny sat up from his lounging position in the corner as the dean turned to leave.  
“Dean Fogg! Have they given us anything useful on the Beast? This seems like a big waste of time unless we’re getting something out of it.”

The dean stopped, his hand on the doorknob.  
“I think this competition has actually been very useful from expanding our knowledge of other forms of magic in general along with the friendly interactions with our sister schools. However, specific to your question, Mr. Adiyodi, yes, I’ve gotten some interesting information from Professor Dumbledore.

“While they haven’t seen anything that matches the description of our ‘Beast’, they do know about the inter-universe travel passageways and specifically about Fillory. You have to remember, Plover wrote those books in England so it only makes sense that he probably interacted with the local wizard and magician population.”

Dean Fogg opened the door.  
“Professor McGonagall has located what seems to be a detailed map of Fillory and the Neitherlands along with a diary from a traveler that was left with a Professor Trelawney, mentioning a visit that appears to be Fillory. We’ll pick them up on this trip. If there are no further questions, I will see you all here in a week for the trip.”

Without actually waiting for follow up questions, he left, closing the door firmly behind him.

Alice jumped up and headed for the bookshelves. 

“A maze. Well, you’ll need directional and magic detection spells at a minimum. Oh, and light too, although that is so basic, you should be set there.”

Eliot watched Alice pulling down books with bemusement.  
“Instead of directional spells, why not just master Penny’s fireball? The fastest way to anywhere is a straight line.”

“I think mass destruction of the maze and everyone in it might not get us invited back.”

Eliot grinned and raised his glass..  
“Exactly!”  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Quidditch field was completely covered with hedges, roughly 20 ft. tall. In the deepening purple of the sky, the champions gathered at the single entrance. The maze itself didn’t have a separate exit. One way in and out. Quentin rethought the confidence he’d brought into this trial. The maze looked a lot more frightening in person than it did in his mind. 

Hagrid and Professors Moody, McGonagall, and Flitwick patrolled the outside of the maze, on the watch for red sparks from the participants if they needed help and retrieval. Moody nodded at the four active participants before stopping in front of Quentin. 

“Mr. Coldwater, I assume you have a hand gesture of some sort that can alert us?”

“Yes, sir, Professor Moody, I’m sure I have a hand gesture you would approve of.”

Quentin thought he saw a slight tug on the corner of Professor McGonagall’s mouth at his comment but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared, her stern, slightly disapproving expression returning. 

Ludo Bagman announced the order they would enter the maze to the crowd, using a spell to amplify his voice.

Harry and Cedric would be first as they were tied for first place. Then Viktor. Then Fleur. Since he didn’t have any official points, Quentin would enter the maze last. He didn’t mind that at all. Let the others run into all the monsters and craziness first. 

At each whistle blow, Quentin moved closer to the entrance. He wrapped his hand around the smooth rock in his pocket that he brought to make into a light source. Waiting the last few minutes before his turn, he located Alice and the group mixed into the Hogwart’s crowd. The girls waved while Eliot lifted his flask in salute then passed it to Penny. Quentin noticed the Hufflepuff prefect heading their way to intercept the alcohol. Good luck with that, he thought. 

The whistle blew for the final time and Quentin plunged through the opening into the darkness beyond. A few words and movements brought him light spilling from the stone in his hand. 

Once he got far enough in to reach a fork in the path, he stopped and ran through his spell kit. He set up a compass mark on his forearm so he could find north and a locator spell to look for the trophy cup. While it was worth a try, he wasn’t really disappointed when the locator came up empty. It probably wasn’t a true trophy anyway. He also scanned the area for magical openings and hidden beings. The hedges dampened his spell but he could still see what was on the other side of one at least. He gave himself night vision that blinded him until he put the rock back in his pocket. 

Then, with no better option presenting itself, Quentin picked a direction and started walking. He decided to alternate right then left at every fork unless something concrete made the opposite direction better. After several turns, he stopped and reran his spells. Again the locator failed but this time, the scanning spell picked up a large armored... something... around the next corner. It looked a mutated crab and even from where he was, he could smell the odor of rotted flesh that seemed to emanate from it. A vague memory of Hagrid discussing these things over a drink at the last trial’s celebration came to mind. They were called...Skrats or Skrewts or Sknewts or something like that. Quentin decided that way didn’t look very promising anyway and doubled back to the last fork. 

Coming into an opening, he spotted a figure, sitting in a chair with his back to him. The man was humming a tuneless song while rocking back and forth. He was dressed oddly, all in white with silver buckles down the back of his shirt. Quentin slowly circled around the clearing, trying to get a good look at the man. He focused so hard on the man that he stepped wrong, lurching into the hedges before regaining his balance. 

The seated man turned his head towards the noise. Quentin froze in alarm. The figure in the chair was him. The buckles down his back were attached to the arms of a straitjacket which were pulled tight, locking the man’s arms down. His hair was buzzed almost completely off. Angry red patches on his temples stood out against his pale, washed out face. His eyes were empty of everything as they met Quentin’s. 

“Are you me? What happened?” Quentin didn’t like whatever this was. It couldn’t be him. He was him, wasn’t he? This had to be one of the spells built into the hedges. 

The man didn’t acknowledge Quentin’s presence. He resumed his rocking, muttering softly to himself. Quentin edged closer, trying to make out the words.  
“There is no magic. There is no magic. There is no magic...”

Over and over, in time with the rocking, the man chanted his mantra. Quentin came closer. The electroshock burns looked fairly fresh even though he knew burns were fairly rare these days. He found himself being sucked in closer and closer. What if all of this *was* just an illusion, something his tortured mind finally built to protect him? He felt the grey mist of his depression and uncertainty creeping out of the corners of his mind. Then a thought hit him.

“What the fuck… I already faced this. I conquered this once and I will NOT fucking deal with it again!”  
Leaping to his feet, Quentin backed up and motioned for a scanning spell. Where the man was sitting was an amorphous grey mass. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what he was looking at but it certainly wasn’t human and was shifting shape as he watched. Dropping the spell, he shielded his eyes and ran for the opening next to the creature. He managed to dash by it before the transformation finished.

“Q! Q, come back and tell me to my face that you told them about me. Why didn’t you come back for me? Why didn’t you save me? Quentin!”

He ran from Julia’s voice. Quentin didn’t know why it took her shape but he was absolutely not going to discuss how he failed his former best friend and crush. He never wanted to face that.

After a few more twists and turns, he slowed down. He couldn’t hear it calling for him anymore. Quentin was so relieved that he didn’t notice anyone in front of him until he bumped into her. 

“Oh god, Fleur! I’m sorry! I just… well, never mind… This crazy trial, right? Ummm… are you ok?”

The young champion from Beauxbatons stood quietly, head cocked to one side, regarding Quentin with a look that had an air of bemusement about it until he got to her eyes. They glowed a bright blue and were fixed on him. 

“Hello, Mr. Coldwater, how nice to see you again.” Her voice had lost the pronounced French lilt, instead having a nice solid middle class British accent. Even with the distinct femaleness of this version, Quentin recognized the voice. He noticed movement around Fleur and caught a glimpse of a giant flying insect that landed on her jacket. Fleur lifted the moth off her jacket, studied it for a moment, then tossed it in her mouth, chewing slowly as she flicked her wand at him and mumbled “Petrificus Particularis”.

Quentin started to back up but found he was frozen in place, arms locked at his side. Fleur swallowed and walked forward, ignoring the other moths that began to fly circles around the two of them. 

“Trying to leave so soon? I was hoping we could have a little talk.” said the Beast-Fleur.  
“I’ve been watching you for awhile now. Why did you all come here, hmm? Looking for something? It seems an awfully long way to come just for you to prove yours is bigger than everyone else’s.” 

Quentin focused as hard as he could on freeing his hands from this overwhelming feeling of paralysis. He had to get away. This thing took too close a personal interest in him. He didn’t want to end up like the Dean, forced to choose between magic and sight or some other equally horrifying option. The Beast-Fleur stood in front of him and brushed a moth off his cheek. Several had already landed in his hair and seemed content to just hang around there. 

“I do appreciate the effort you are putting in but honestly, if I thought these ‘wizards’ had anything that I’d need, I would have ripped my way through them long ago. Most are very much just children playing with their tinkertoy wands. They use crutches instead of letting the magic run within them. This body can barely utilize the tiniest fraction of what I want it to do. But, she knows some perfectly pedestrian spells.” the Beast said, tossing Fleur’s wand to the ground. 

Quentin could feel his fingers begin to loosen up slightly. He didn’t need much but he needed to be able to at least bend them. He needed to distract the Beast for another minute or two.

“How do you know my name?”

The Beast-Fleur laughed, a deep mannish chuckle that didn’t fit with young woman’s mouth.  
“Ah, you found your voice at last. Good for you! How do I know your name? Oh, Quentin, you and I are old friends. I’ve met *all* of you so, so many times. In fact, I’m here to stop us from meeting ever again. After you, I think I’ll start with that tall friend you’re so fond of. He looks like he’ll be a challenge. Followed by that blonde girl. The rest, I’ll probably just eeny-meeny-miny-mo the order.” Bending down, the Beast stuck a hand into the nearest hedge and pulled out a thick piece of branch. It advanced on Quentin, raising the branch over its head.  
“If that’s your only question, shall we begin?”

Quentin pushed as hard as he could against the spell holding him. His hands finally came free and he whipped through the motions of a spell, centered about 100 yards above his head. A bright red firework lit up the sky directly over the two of them. The last thing Quentin saw was the Beast’s borrowed face contorting in anger as the branch swung towards the side of his head and a flash of red light as it connected.


	10. Aftermath

People were talking. No, that wasn’t right. People were arguing, loudly. Quentin’s head hurt too much for this. He was about to protest when he heard them mention “the incident” with the trial. Cracking open his eyes, he saw a crowd around a bed at the far end of the room that he recognized as the infirmary. He knew Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape but there was another man he couldn’t remember and, for some reason, a large black dog. Quentin blinked rapidly to try and clear the double vision that was nauseating him. Also, to see if the dog was still there. But all and all, that wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d see here so whatever, he thought. 

Trying to sit up caused his stomach to flip over, so he laid back with a moan. Madame Pomfrey immediately came into view, leaning over him.

“How are you feeling, young man? That’s quite a nasty bump you got.”

Quentin tried to figure out how he felt but adjectives were just out of his reach.   
“Uhhh… I feel here, I suppose.”

She bustled around him for a few minutes, shining a light in his eyes, reading his chakras, placing a hand on his head and muttering an incomprehensible incantation, before shaking up a brown bottle of liquid and opening it for him.   
“He has a pretty bad concussion but nothing that some sleep and a few potions won’t take care of.”   
She turned to a figure Quentin hadn’t noticed and handed Dean Fogg the bottle.   
“Make sure he drinks this in the next 15 minutes and it will knock him out for the night. We can probably release him in the morning.”

“Thank you, Madame. I will make sure he takes it.”  
The healer bustled off to the crowd at the other end of the room. As Dean Fogg sat in the chair next to his bed, he saw the others step from behind the screen that blocked his view of the door. 

Eliot sat on his bed, the motion sending another small wave of nausea through him. He brushed Quentin’s hair back from his face.   
“How are you doing, Q? Thank God you didn’t win this thing, right? With all the crazy? I bet it was the mass of muscle Krum that got you. I’m surprised he went right for the physical attack.”

Quentin grew agitated.  
“What crazy? Is anyone else hurt? It said it was going to start with me and move on to the rest of you. I couldn’t move or do anything to stop...”

Alice took his hand.  
“Quentin… shh… calm down. Why don’t we start with what happened in there.”

He explained about his time in the maze and the Beast, watching everyone grow very still as the implications began to drive home. The enemy they had been trying to arm themselves against had walked right into protected ground and threatened them. The only thing that had saved Quentin was the difference in magic systems hampered his prodigious use of gesture magic via Fleur. She simply didn’t have more than the basics for him to utilize and he didn’t understand how her system fully operated. That fact probably saved her as well as Quentin because the Beast couldn’t possess her entirely. The spell she threw to freeze Quentin was not a strong or permanent one but just a temporary hold, as if she wanted him to get free. 

While the group took in the enormity of the situation, Dean Fogg explained to Quentin what happened after he sent up his flare. Hagrid had come to retrieve him, finding him alone and bleeding from a head injury on the ground with Fleur’s wand laying a few feet away. After he got out, Fleur was retrieved after being attacked by Viktor followed shortly by Viktor who was knocked out by Harry and Cedric. The group’s knowledge of what happened after that was sketchy because they had no context as outsiders. The contest appeared to be rigged in some fashion and Cedric was now dead. It had something to do with the wizard that killed Harry’s parents and Harry was lucky to have escaped. The entire school was in an uproar with several parents taking their children and leaving.

“Those creeps in the dungeon seem pretty happy about it though, whatever it is. Especially that Draco kid. Rumor has it that most of the kids in that snake house have parents that were part of this uber-evil wizard guy’s army in the past and the kids are looking to enlist now.” Margo chimed in. 

Quentin’s head was too fuzzy to take it all in. Recounting the story brought back all the fear of the attack in the maze and now there was a bat-shit crazy wizard running around killing kids? He couldn’t process it. 

“Wasn’t I suppose to drink something?”

The dean picked up the bottle from the side table and handed it to him.   
“If this is what I think it is, you’ll be out in about 30 seconds and won’t wake up for about 8 hours. Dreamless too, I believe.”

Quentin raised the bottle to his friends and downed it in 3 gulps. He felt the effect immediately and had just enough time to hand the bottle back to the dean before sleep overtook his malfunctioning brain. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Things were much more in focus the next day. Madame Pomfrey declared him fit to be released. Eliot reported that most of the students felt that both Fleur and Viktor were under the influence of someone called Barty Crouch Jr, who was masquerading as Professor Moody, when they attacked the other participants. Dean Fogg and Dumbledore talked and decided it was for the best to leave it that way. No one else needed to know that the Brakebills students had their own version of Voldemort following them around. The fact that the Beast didn’t consider the wizards a threat made it the least of Dumbledore’s worries at the moment. 

Penny visited Professor Trelawney and got the diary from a traveler called Roald Sahlqvist. He was a Norwegian that had visited Hogwarts about 70 years ago. The detailed descriptions, especially about the time flow differences between Fillory and Earth, would be useful. In return, Penny gave her a few bottles of very expensive scotch “liberated” from the Brakebills wine cellar. 

Dean Fogg himself went to Madam Pince in the library to retrieve the maps left for him by Professor Dumbledore. The librarian kept him waiting for over an hour as she tried to prove the note from Dumbledore was a forgery, followed by the protracted and overly dramatic “finding of the maps”. The dean only had to resort to his official voice three or four times to finally get her to hand them over. 

After another day to wrap up details, everyone assembled in the Great Hall after breakfast was finished and the first bell had already rung. Quentin tried to talk to Harry but he always had a protective ring of friends around him and didn’t seem like he wanted to talk to anyone. Quentin got that and didn’t blame him at all. He wrote a quick note of condolence and goodbye, passing it to a house elf for delivery, before joining the others. 

“Seems weird that we’re leaving without getting all of this wrapped up.” said Margo, rolling a small suitcase up to the group.  
Dean Fogg shook his head.  
“This isn’t our fight. Our presence is being noted by those who don’t want to believe what apparently happened and we don’t want to give them a reason to blame us. Besides, they don’t want tangled up in our mess and we don’t want to introduce our problem to their evil wizard. The less the Beast takes an interest here, the better.” 

They joined hands, forming a tight circle. Penny began to focus on that fabulous Indian restaurant they ate at the last time they were in London. Specifically, he focused on the bright, sparkling mosaic built into the sidewalk outside the front door. An early lunch to refuel and an easy jump back home. No problem.

Quentin took a deep breath.  
“It looks like we’re on our own then.”

Moments later, Mrs. Norris stalked through the swirling dust particles, stopping to sniff the air for a moment, before moving through the now empty Hall. 

THE END


End file.
